Death By Combine
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: The first time, Percy didn't realise until after. Because Amber asked for Serial Killer Percy.


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise. **

**Challenges listed at the bottom. **

**Word Count** \- 1341

**Warnings** \- Murder, gore, disturbing mindset.

_Written for Amber, for GGE. Sorry this is so late babe, I hope you enjoy it. _

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**Death By Combine **

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The first time, Percy didn't realise until after. The homeless man that had taken shelter in his barn had been trying to get away unseen, when Percy ran him over.

The man was no match for the Combine Harvester, which chewed him up and spat him straight back out.

Percy wasn't really sure what to do.

He knew that he should call the police and explain what happened, have them come and take what was left of the man's body away, and possibly take Percy himself away in cuffs.

He didn't think that "It was an accident" would be the greatest defence.

He poured himself a drink from the well stocked cupboard where he kept his alcohol and downed it in one, before pouring a second.

The man had been homeless… would anyone really miss him?

Certainly nobody would be looking for him on Percy's farm, right? It wasn't like Percy ever entertained visitors anyway, so…

Nobody had to know.

But he had to dispose of the evidence. Just in case.

He powered up the old computer and googled acids. He was a farmer, nobody would question him wanting to purchase acid for cleaning purposes, right? Except…

His eyes fell on a leaflet he'd picked up at the last Farmer's Market and he paused.

Fertiliser.

Half way through his third drink, Percy smiled. Perfect.

…

He tried to put the homeless man out of his mind, he really did. Whenever it attempted to cross his mind, he forcefully changed his thoughts to something else, _anything else. _

There was guilt, but there was also an uncomfortable yearning feeling that he knew he needed to ignore.

It was just… just for a moment, he'd felt strong when he'd seen the man. Unstoppable. Invincible.

Mistake or not, he'd taken a man's life, and he felt… _powerful_.

So, he tried to put it out of his mind because he shouldn't feel that way. He knew that. Wasn't that why he'd moved to the middle of nowhere to a farm that kept him isolated in the first place?

Weren't those urges what he was trying to avoid?

…

He'd scared his mother when he'd been younger. Percy knew that. He just… didn't feel things the way other people did.

She expected him to be cowed by her shouting, but he never was. She expected him to feel guilt for hurting his siblings, but he never did.

It scared her.

So Percy left.

Whatever was wrong or different about him, he loved his mother and he didn't want her to be scared.

Not of him.

The farm had been a safe haven for him over the years, and his self imposed isolation helped to stem the urges he felt.

Was it really so wrong to want to rip into a chest to find out if there was really a heart present? Was it really so wrong to want to slowly remove organs to find out what was really necessary to survive?

The world said it was (the world is so wrong in Percy's opinion), so Percy hid away from the world instead.

All for his mother.

Because he didn't want to scare her.

…

He dreamt of crimson stained snow and he woke up panting, want and need coursing through him.

It was just… so beautiful, like the most abstract art.

He dreamt of screams that serenaded him like a lullaby until he woke with sticky sheets and a wonder if wet dreams were supposed to be so loud.

To him, screams were much better than the rubbish they put on the radio. (Again, he wondered if the world knew how wrong it was getting things.)

He dreamt of flesh parting, opening up beneath his knife so smoothly, to show exactly what was hiding inside a person. The elusive secret held, and he woke before he got a real look.

It left him frustrated, and he yearned for answers that he knew he should never find.

Because it was _wrong, _according to the world.

…

The second time, it wasn't an accident. He caught sight of the teenagers sneaking into the farm, and he grinned to himself even as he slipped from the converted barn he called home.

He wondered if he they'd outrun the tractor, but he took the chance anyway.

He caught them seconds before they would have reached the safety of the dirt track past his fences.

They whispered out apologies and pleaded with him to let them go. They swore they'd never return and they wouldn't tell anybody.

Percy laughed at them, because they were liars.

They'd squeal like little pigs if he let them leave, even though he hadn't actually done anything to them.

_Yet. _

When he was done (and his answers were as glorious as he'd expected them to be), they joined the homeless man in the mixer for the fertiliser.

…

The third time, Percy gave up all pretence of being normal. The screams were like music to his ears as the woman begged for her life. Percy took his time with this one.

He'd rushed with the trespassing teenagers, let his excitement get the better of him.

The woman lasted three days before she took her last breath, and it was the best three days of Percy's life to date.

He felt a frisson of guilt when she'd screamed about her daughter, but then, she shouldn't have been waiting on the street corner if she cared that much about her child.

She'd practically begged him to take her, hadn't she?

…

The fourth, fifth and sixth times, Percy experimented. He cut off limbs and trailed acid over wounds. Pushing the boundaries of what a human could handle.

He was a professional, of course, so he wrote down his experiments. Really, he was doing the world a favour. He wouldn't be able to publish his findings while he was alive, of course, but one day, his experiments would be discovered.

His name would be known across the world for his work.

After all, fame after death was a popular thing amongst artists. Just look at Van Gogh.

…

"Percy?"

Percy opened the front door with a frown, surprised to see his little sister standing in front of the converted barn.

She wore a simple dress and large sunglasses, but he only really recognised her because of her pale skin and fiery hair.

He hadn't seen her in so long, it wasn't really a surprise. She'd been young when he'd left the family home for the last time, after all.

"Ginny? What on earth are you doing here?"

"Mum's sixtieth birthday is coming," Ginny said, her lips curling into a smile. "I, uh. Well. I'm sure she'd love to see you. I know you speak to her on the phone but… it's her birthday, you know?"

"Mum doesn't want to see me," Percy replied, pushing his glasses up his nose. "And you really shouldn't be here."

"Oh, come on, you're my brother! I was hoping I could stay the night, it was a hella drive out here."

"That's not a good idea."

Ginny raised her glasses to the top of her head and rolled her eyes at him. "It's not like you have plans, is it? I bet it's dead boring out here. Besides, is it really such a chore to spend an evening with your little sister; who, by the way, you haven't seen for _years." _

Percy swallowed hard. "I guess not."

He stood back to allow her inside.

…

The phone call was long and arduous, but Percy made sure to make the correct sounds and say the correct words. His mother was inconsolable as she told him about Ginny going missing through her sobs.

Percy smiled to himself as he looked out of the window, the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. He stood by the window, watching the tall golden crops swaying in the wind.

Another note to add to his growing file, he supposed.

His new fertiliser was fantastic.

He'd never had a better harvest.

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**Written for: **

Lyric Alley - 14. The world is so wrong

Funfair, East - Cocktails - 11. Mistletoe Mule: (word) boring

Funfair, South - Holiday Cards - 13. Snoopy on his snowy doghouse: (colour) crimson

365\. 294. Abstract


End file.
